


from the depths

by arachnida, onekingdomonce



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mermaids, M/M, Merman Laurent, Non-Graphic Violence, Pirate Damen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-26 00:56:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16671709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnida/pseuds/arachnida, https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekingdomonce/pseuds/onekingdomonce
Summary: Damianos, Captain of The Egeria and the Ellosean Sea.Damen was a steadfast pirate with as much heart as devotion, as dedicated to his cause as he was to the sea. He was stronger than most, more loyal than any, and each new voyage filled him with something inimitable that no one else could understand, aside for perhaps his crew.Every expedition was different, varying in length and difficulty, never to be predetermined. At the end of each there was time to recuperate, a chance for everyone to spend it as they saw fit before returning to reality. For Damen there was his private area on the rocks by the water where he found quiet, serenity, and a way to always be close to the ocean.Until one night, he found something else, something new. An unearthly creature unlike any other, with a beauty that rivaled anything he had ever seen.It would appear that mermaids were more than just a myth.





	from the depths

**Author's Note:**

> here is my fic for the 2k18 big bang!  
> i had written this fic months ago but decided to just save it for the big bang, so im excited for it to finally be out there. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> art for the fic by [ jesibeans](https://jesibeans.tumblr.com/post/180289768763/hah-so-heres-the-piece-for-laurent-ofvere-for)  
> 

yes the image came out fucking huge. do i care? no. its a miracle i managed to embed something at all.

Damen looked around as he listened to the sounds of the wind howling around him, the water lapping against the edge of the rock, back and forth, back and forth. It had been three long, grueling weeks, each man and woman in his crew pushed to the best of their abilities, applying every one of their strengths that had made them stand out in Damen’s eye when he assembled them two years ago. 

Damen was exhausted. He could feel it in his bones, in every one of his muscles that burned like liquid fire. His body was sore, his mind drained, and he loved every part of it. Every time Damen returned from one of their voyages feeling absolutely spent, he knew it was a job well done. 

They would set sail again in two days, this time off for Mellos. For now Damen was home, though the feeling was incongruous. Ios may have been where Damen was born and raised, where he and his crew came back to at the end of each mission to regroup and replenish, but how appropriate could the word be when all he knew it as was a glimmer of white marble and a variety of different faces, familiar yet impersonal. 

The ocean was home for Damen. The vast openness, the feeling of infinity. The way it changed with each hour of the day from a bright, turquoise blue to a deep, reflective black. Damen closed his eyes, thinking of the way it felt to stand at the wheel, to watch as the horizon met the line of the sea as they neared their next destination.

Damen settled himself more comfortably on the flat stone he had claimed as his own through each of these visits, his palms on the cold gravel. Two days and he would be back, back where he was meant to be. For now Damen just wanted one full night of rest, a few drinks and a good fuck. He closed his eyes as he leaned his weight back, listening to the water. 

“You seem rather confident in your safety.” 

“I always am,” Damen muttered in reply, a few seconds of silence passing before he realized that he didn’t recognize the voice. Damen spent every waking moment with his crew, he knew their voices as vividly as he knew his own. His eyes came open. 

Damen looked to the path at his right, the line of rock and grass that led to this very spot, expecting to see someone standing over him, or perhaps up on the balcony of the inn that his crew inhabited each time they came back, leaning down and calling out to him. 

No one. 

Damen turned his head to the left and towards the water, frowning when he saw no one, though he hadn’t actually expected to. The water was moving a bit more rapidly now, the calm surface ebbing as if it had been disturbed by something entering it, or cutting through it. Damen’s frown deepened. That wasn’t possible. The only way to enter the water was from Damen’s spot. The only way someone could have swam at that moment would be if they had been in the water to begin with, and Damen would have seen them. 

He ran a hand down his face, his weariness feeling more pronounced. If Nikandros were with him he would surely tell Damen that his overexertion was causing him to hear things, to see things. 

Damen pushed himself up, making his way towards the inn, opting to take one of the side entrances that only his crew knew about. It was time for that drink. 

 

“Forty fucking days,” Lazar said, leaning back farther in his seat as he kicked his legs up onto the round table, crossing them at the ankles. “I don’t want to see the ocean again for months.”

“Don’t let the Captain hear you,” Pallas said, pushing his legs and sitting down on the edge, facing Lazar. 

“The Captain is not deaf,” Damen said, leaning his elbows back on the edge of the bar as he watched as his crew scatter around the small tavern, knowing everyone making use of the inn’s bedrooms upstairs would be in for a long, loud night. 

“Don’t listen to him, Damen,” Kashel said, appearing out of nowhere. She was seated on the edge of the bar beside Damen, her legs swinging off the edge as she shoved another mug of liquor in his hands. Her hair was pulled back off her face, her dark lipstick smeared. She had tossed off her dark vest and wore only a loose white shirt, the top few laces undone so it fell down her shoulder. “He still won’t admit he’s afraid of water.”

“I’m not afraid of anything,” Lazar said, though it was clear he was hardly paying them any attention anymore. Damen took a mouthful of the drink as he looked around the crowded room, observing everyone. Nikandros and Jord were throwing darts at a target board on the opposite wall, Aktis shuffling a deck of cards beside him. Orlant was sitting two tables away from Lazar and Pallas, sifting through a stack of coin in that way he did every time they returned from a mission. Vannes was leaning on the bar a feet away, trying to coerce the barkeep into joining her in her rooms later. Damen felt a swell of pride as he watched them all unwind in their own ways.

He reached over the bar and grabbed a full bottle of undiluted wine, tossing a copper sol at the barkeep as she quirked a brow. It was loud and hot inside, and Damen longed for his secluded spot where it was just him and the open air.

“Where are you going?” He heard Nikandros ask as Damen made for the door. Damen waved a hand in a wordless dismissive gesture, nudging the door open and letting it swing shut as he made his way down the path.

Damen sat himself down, leaning his elbows on his upturned knees as he took a long swig, feeling the wine heat his insides as it went down smoothly. His ship was anchored down the dock, and he could just make out the name from his vantage, the words dark and slanted on the banners hanging all around.

Damen took a deep breath, letting it cool his lungs as he ran his hands through his hair, his white shirt billowing against his chest. The sky was pitch black, the moon a bright glow above him, cutting through the water in muddled lines. Damen took another mouthful as he listened to the water, the sound giving him a sense of peace, even from here. 

Damen wasn’t sure what it was that made him turn. He hadn’t technically heard anything; the swishing of water was a constant thing and shouldn’t have alerted him. Perhaps it was instinct, perhaps it was mindless, but whatever it was, it had Damen looking into the water, into the most beautiful pair of eyes he’d ever seen.

Damen might have been startled by the sudden appearance of another person had he not been so spellbound, so caught by the depth of it. Damen had seen exotic satin dresses, handfuls of sapphires, all of the Ellosean Sea, yet he had never been so captivated by such a mesmeric shade of blue. It took Damen a few stretched seconds of gaping before he noticed the golden brows just above them, etched in a deep scowl. 

Damen blinked heavily, his wits returning to him with that look of displeasure. It was well past midnight, far past the appropriate time for a swim. For all Damen knew, this person had fallen in and needed his help, and there he was, gawking like a fool.

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, turning towards the man who was bobbing in place, effortlessly, like he spent his time practicing his balance in water. The change in angle gave Damen a better look at him. He was-

“Are you all right?” Damen asked, extending a hand. “Can I help you?”

He was beautiful. His skin was an unblemished stretch of ivory, perhaps just a shade or two darker than Damen’s shirt, glistening from the water that was dripping down his face like he had dipped his head in. His hair shone gold like the barrels of it they had hidden on the ship, like the rings Kashel wore on each of her fingers. The tips of it were damp, flowing passed his slender, curving shoulders. The entire top half of his body was bare. 

The man said, “Fuck off.” 

Damen paused, his hand freezing in the air, his fingers uselessly outstretched as he gaped in surprise. It was not the corrosive tone of his words, nor was it the increasingly distasteful look on his face. It was the language he had used, the soft, fluid tongue of Veretian, making all things sound sensual despite the way his eyes alone blazed venom.

Realistically, Damen should have been at least a little bit afraid. He had heard stories throughout his many voyages, had read fables growing up so close to the ocean. Damen was well prepared, one dagger slipped in the waistband of his pants, another in his boot. However, he could not deny that he felt nothing of the sort, not even an inkling of trepidation. Instead his veins pumped with thrill, the adventure seeking part of his mind alive with the thought of what was actually before him. 

The water was black in this time of night, a dark abyss that did not allow Damen to see below his hips, down his lean, sculpted abdomen. Even in the dim lighting Damen could see a fine trail of golden hair. Beneath that, nothing.

Damen raised his gaze, looking back into the narrowed, rancor filled eyes. Only a few feet separated them.

“You’re a merman,” Damen said.

His expression did not change; abet a slight deepening of his frown. Damen finally pulled his hand back and brought them both to his sides, pulling his legs up to his chest as he waited for a response of some kind.

Eventually, “you speak Veretian.”

The comment itself almost made Damen laugh. He was the Captain of those seas, of course he spoke Veretian. He spoke most languages, and that certainly included the language of the creatures that could supposedly lure his entire crew to destruction with their sensuality and enchantment. 

Though if Damen was being honest, the merman did not seem to have much interest in luring anyone in with any form of seduction. He seemed much more inclined to slip the dagger out of Damen’s boot and drive it into his chest. 

Damen’s adrenaline from their late night return had still not died down, and he had nothing else to fill his time. He might as well make conversation. He took another swig of his wine, setting it down beside him after.

“Is there any reason in particular you’re looking at me as if I’ve threatened your life?”

The merman’s scowl dispensed at that immediately, his features shifting into something more like boredom. The velocity of it was jarring, and unclear in its authenticity. 

“You hold no threat over my life,” he replied, to which Damen shrugged in agreement. He was right, really. Damen had no intentions of harming him.

“Is there any reason you’re acting as if you’re not afraid right now?” he asked. His voice was like brittle glass, like this entire conversation was taking up only a tenth of his attention. 

Damen _did_ laugh that time. He had to. “Trust me,” he said. “You’re the last thing I’m afraid of.”

“Trust me,” he said. “I don’t care.”

Damen grinned, adjusting himself so that he was more comfortable. “Are all of your kind so prickly?”

“Are all of your kind so obtuse?” 

That struck Damen as odd. He never considered humans to be a grouping; to him they were the norm. It was strange to think that for the merman things were reversed.

“How am I obtuse?” Damen asked. 

“This is my territory,” he replied, pushing away from the rock so that he began to drift back, farther into the deep, engulfing water. “And you’re clearly unwelcome here.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Damen said, taking up his wine and pushing himself up. “I’m on land, so technically this is _my_ territory.” He took one last drink, winking at the beautiful creature as he turned around, making his way back into the inn. 

 

They had a few days in Ios before they were back on the ship, off for Isthima. The initial stop would be a shorter stay; the voyage to the island targeted for haggling and trade, their time to stock up on everything they needed. From then it was unknown, following tips as they came for open amounts of time, until matters were solved and they were able to come back. Until then, three days. 

Three days to do whatever they wanted. To lounge around, to explore the markets, to drink themselves into a stupor before they were back on the ship and back to business.

Damen had just returned from the markets with Jord and Orlant where they had wandered around the different stalls, listening for any form of intel. People were more loose lipped in the company of friends and boisterous activity, never knowing who was listening in on their conversations. 

As they walked into the inn and headed for the stone steps that led to their rooms, Damen hesitated at the archways, a hand on the wall. 

“Captain?” Jord asked, looking at Damen’s half extended leg. 

“Go,” Damen said, after a second of hesitation. “I’m going to get fresh air.” 

Jord nodded, not commenting on the fact that they had spent the past two hours in fresh air.

Damen didn’t question himself as he looked around, inspecting all of the empty tables before making his way through the narrow hall, out the back exit. Perhaps he was unstimulated by his usual company. Perhaps he was intrigued. Perhaps he was so numb to everything around him, not feeling as if he had been challenged or surprised by anything shocking that he had seen since he first touched water. Maybe Damen wanted to be challenged again. 

Not that it mattered, he told himself as he stepped out onto the stretch of flat rock, rolling his shoulders back and letting the sun warm his neck. He was Damianos, Captain of _The Egeria_ and the Ellosean Sea. He didn’t need an explanation.

Damen sat, mirroring the same position he had taken up the previous night, arranging his limbs comfortably. The water was different now, a beautiful, glistening shade of blue that he could see his reflection in. If anything were to swim by beneath the surface, any of the exotic creatures that he had seen throughout his life, he would be able to see it. Unlike last night where any curiosities were left to the imagination. 

Damen waited with his body still, his hair blowing away from his face. He knew determination and he knew a stubborn challenge when he saw one, and the glacial gaze from the previous night was no exception. He was coming; it was simply a matter of time. 

Damen didn’t bother opening his eyes when it finally happened. He could handle silence and was unintimidated by it. For all he cared, he had hours to spare. The sudden sound of swishing water caused anticipation to spike inside Damen, just as the thought of the beauty that awaited him. The face that had been the only thing Damen had seen when he closed his eyes the previous night in his bed, the memory laced in curiosity and enticement.

“Hello,” Damen said. 

Silence. Damen stretched his legs out, crossing the ankles in languor. He listened to the sounds of summer, his skin feeling very warm, his thin shirt light against him.

And then he was wet, drenched as if he had been hit by a wave, his soaked shirt clinging to every line and curve of his body. Damen opened his eyes in rapid blinks, water dripping down his face as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“That was unfortunate.”

Damen turned his head so he was once again looking back into acerbic eyes, his expression as still as the waters surrounding him. Damen ran both of his hands through his hair, slicking it back off his face and squeezing the excess out. The merman watched him with a blank expression, his arms crossed in front of him on the rock.

“Did you just splash me?”

“You seemed rather dry,” he replied.

Damen could feel the water seeping into his pants, the fabric sticking to his thighs. Damen pressed the heels of his feet into the stone and pulled off his boots, but was otherwise unbothered. Water dried, and he wasn’t above relishing in the fact that he had managed to incite a reaction, despite the indifferent gaze with which it was delivered. 

“If you wanted to get me wet so badly,” Damen said. “You could have just asked me to jump in with you. I don’t mind water.”

“If I ask you to leave, will you do that?” he asked. “I mind you.”

Damen tried not to grin. He couldn’t help it, he was just so refreshing. Unable to resist his curiosity any long, he turned his body and allowed himself to look. 

Throughout all of Damen’s experiences and adventures, he had somehow never come across his kind. He had seen sketches, and was even sworn to by part of his crew that they had seen _something_ swim just beside their ship, but Damen could never deny the skepticism he felt. There were many unbelievable, unexplainable things in this world, but when you’ve never seen them for yourself, it was hard to believe.

Damen couldn’t deny it now if he wanted.

He was even more beautiful in the light, in an ethereal way that stole the breath from Damen’s lungs. With the clear water around him and the sun like a halo around his head, he looked like something meant for dreams and myths, a tale you would pass on to express unworldly perfection that had no place around mortals. 

His milky skin shined like porcelain in the light, wet and glistening in a way that begged to be touched. His lean, well-muscled arms were still crossed atop one another so that they accentuated the curves of his biceps. Coupled with his smooth chest and the taut ripples of his abdomen, he resembled the elegantly carved statues that Damen had seen lining the sea on the border to Patras. 

It was below the hips that, naturally, caught Damen’s attention, filling him with awe. Instead of the lean, strong legs that he would normally expect, his waist extended into a long, gleaming tail.

Somehow, it didn’t appear as if there were a sharp distinction in which body ended and scales began. His skin blended downwards, a soft line blurring between the two so that his lower half seemed to naturally appear, like nothing else could ever belong there.

His tail was an iridescent blue shade, so close to the starting blue of his eyes that Damen wondered if something had been done to align the two. It started out thicker by the waist and tapered off the lower it extended, his scales gleaming with each subtle shift, the light cutting through the surface of the water and reflecting off him like a kaleidoscope. The bottom of his tail split off into two opposing fins, lightening to a burnished gold like he had been dipped in fire. Like the sun was continuously dusting him in light. 

Gradually, Damen pulled his eyes up and away, unsure what to say or how to proceed. As a man who rarely lacked confidence and always knew just what to say, it was a very incongruous position to be in.

Honesty tended worked best for Damen, the straightforward approach always making the most sense to him. With water dripping down his neck and a new chill on his skin, Damen said, “You are breathtaking.”

The merman continued to bore his eyes into Damen’s, his tail swishing from side to side like it was holding him in place, though Damen could tell he could float there gracefully with minimal effort if he so wished. Damen continued to look at him earnestly, waiting for a response of some kind. A remark, an emotional shift, anything that was not a blank stare.

Eventually, “why are you here?” 

“I am the Captain of this sea,” Damen said, that wasn’t quite what he had been asked. “We dock in Ios after each voyage.”

He wasn’t sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t the sour shift of his expression or the cool, corrosive, “ _this is not your sea_.”

Lips parting, Damen reconsidered his words. “I’m sorry,” he tried. “The sea is yours, I only explore it. I didn’t intend to claim ownership over your- home.” Was that the proper word?

Damen’s apology appeared useless, as it did nothing to dispense of the displeasure on his face, the tightening of his shoulders. His tail had stopped swaying, the water motionless. Damen didn’t understand him. He knew that some were just more closed off and caustic by nature, but the merman seemed to have deemed Damen an enemy before they had even exchanged a single word, and Damen had done nothing to deserve his spite. 

“I’m sorry,” Damen said, the nature of this apology entirely different. “Have I done something to offend you? Is there a certain reason you seem intent on removing my head from my shoulders?”

Damen watched his expression pinch further, his fingers clenched against the edge of the rock so that his knuckles turned white. He appeared as if he would have hefted himself out of the water and come for Damen if he could.

“You dare ask me that,” he said. “You act so _benevolent_ , when you-“

“When I what?” Damen asked exasperatedly. “You know nothing about me.”

“I have _seen your ship,_ ” he said. Damen could just make out two sharper teeth In the back of his mouth from the way his lips contorted. As his fingers began to curve into his palm, “I have seen the nets and the daggers. The chains hanging down the sides. Do you think I don’t know who you are? What you do?”

Damen stared at him in bewilderment, his suggestion of what Damen could be involved in rendering him temporarily speechless. Damen would _never-_

He closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head, breathing out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re so quick to judge,” Damen said, looking at the way the merman’s jaw was clenched. “You know nothing about me,” he repeated. “Or what I do.”

“No?” he asked, straightening his back so he rose slightly in the water, a bit closer to Damen’s level. “What do you do? Capture souvenirs and keepsakes?”

“No,” Damen said. “I capture slavers.”

He spoke with simple straightforwardness. His tone was neither expectant nor proud, because he did nothing that made him special or better than anyone else. Anyone with morals or at the very least, basic human decency would so the same. _Should_ do the same.

The merman stared at Damen, the water lapping around him in slow, rhythmic circles. Damen watched as his throat rolled, his eyes unblinking at he continued to observe Damen in silence, unwilling to be the first one to speak. That was fine, Damen had had enough talking for the afternoon. 

He pushed himself up off the ground with one hand, grabbing his boots in the other by the tops. The merman tilted his head back as he watched Damen rise, his neutral expression undecipherable. 

“I will be back later tonight,” Damen said. “This is my spot where I come to get away from everything, it has always been my reprieve. Come or not, I don’t care. Don’t expect me to stay away to please you.” 

With that he turned away, leaving the merman to grip the edge of the rock, his eyes still on Damen’s retreating figure. 

 

Damen tossed his hand of cards onto the table, pushing them away from his in frustration. “I’m done,” he said. “I don’t trust either one of you.”

“You can never just admit defeat,” Lazar said, pulling a pile of coin in front of him and pocketing half of it. Rochert took the remaining half, whistling towards the barkeep and lifting his empty mug in request.

“I take defeat just fine when it’s warranted,” Damen said. “I’ve just seen you both cheat half of Ios blind.”

Grinning, Rochert said, “would we do that to you, Captain?”

“You know,” Lazar said, flicking a coin up and catching it on his palm. “If you don’t want to gamble with coin, you could always offer up captaincy for a while.”

“Over my dead body,” Damen said, rising from the table. “You’ll get us into an altercation with Vaskian pirates in a matter of days.”

“Such little faith, Captain,” Vannes said, pulling up a chair and spinning it around so that she was leaning forward on the backrest. “We could take them with ease.”

“You can gamble with Nikandros on his status,” Damen said. “Perhaps he will bet on the position of second in command.”

“I trust them less than you do,” Nikandros said from a separate table, tipped back in his chair with his hat covering his eyes, his arms were crossed behind his head, his legs kicked up.

Pallas and Kashel came down the stairs as Damen walked through the corridor, nodding to him in acknowledgment as they crossed paths. He turned his head and watched Kashel take his abandoned seat, Pallas pulling up another. As Kashel picked up the deck and began to shuffle, Damen pushed the door open and walked into the cold air. 

Damen walked with his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the dark sky as he approached the water edge. It was a warm night, the blanket of stars above him reminding him of the view from his hammock on the top deck of his ship, long nights of lying there, reflecting on the day. Two more days and he would be back. 

Damen’s gaze was still upturned as he crouched down, his eyes on the moon, so bright it couldn’t be missed. He let out a breath, slowly looking down until he was looking into the eyes of the merman. 

Damen was surprised, though he wouldn’t let it show. He wasn’t sure if he would come, he hadn’t even been sure if he had _wanted_ him to come. Regardless, he certainly didn’t anticipate him already being there when Damen arrived.

Damen said nothing. He kept his eyes trained on the ocean, his jaw stubbornly set. If conversation was to be had, he would not be the one to start it. 

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, the two of them hidden somewhere in their own heads. Damen’s thoughts were on his ship, his crew, hands that were no more than inches away from his own when he heard the words that coiled around his heart. 

“I knew a boy,” he said, in a voice that would not be interrupted. “Who was important to me. Three years ago, he was taken by sailors.”

Damen turned his head, his concentration set on keeping his expression from hardening. He made his voice steady. “Was he-“

“Like me,” he said. “Yes.”

Damen exhaled slowly, his fingers pressing into the stone. He had heard whispers about what some people did, the amount of money those creatures could make on the block. He wasn’t sure what for, exactly. He was never even entirely convinced that they existed and therefore had never seen much use in finding out the specifics, his time otherwise occupied.

Damen scrolled his face with his eyes, trying to think of what was best to say. Damen didn’t know him, he didn’t know a single thing about him, but something told him coddling or apologies for things that Damen hadn’t done was the last he would want. Instead, he spoke with all the sincerity he could muster.

“I would never do that,” Damen said, needing it to be clear. Not just by the merman. Damen didn’t want anyone to think he was capable of such ugliness. “And if anyone in my crew did, I would have them thrown overboard.”

“You sound like you believe yourself.”

“I do.”

“All right,” the merman said, after a few seconds. He spoke like he was unsure either way yet wasn’t interested enough in finding out, though he surprised Damen with the sudden passiveness.

Damen would, if it came to that, but that was beside the point. He didn’t wish to dwell, and was sure he wasn’t the only one.

“What is it like?” Damen asked, motioning towards the water. “Down there.”

That seemed to strike him as odd. He went with the shift in the mood well, something in his expression quirking, though Damen wouldn’t dare call it a smile. “What is it like for you?” he asked, motioning towards the general direction of the buildings. “Out there.”

Shrugging, Damen said, “That is not the same.”

“How so?” He rested his chin on one of his hands. “That is your world, this is mine.” 

Damen considered that, ultimately deciding that it made a relative amount of sense. He turned his entire body so he was facing the merman, moving himself forward so he was closer to the edge. The merman watched Damen come closer to him, unflinching.

“So,” Damen said, lifting his knees and crossing his arms on them. “You’ve seen my ship.”

“They’re rather large,” he said. “And not easy to miss.”

“But you know which ship is mine,” Damen said, resting his chin on his hands in a similar manner.

“You’re rather large,” he said, flatly. “And not easy to miss.”

Damen couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face, feeling as he had when he had initially seen the merman, before he knew what a blade sharp tongue he had behind his lips, the color of coral. 

“Can you be on land?” Damen asked, figuring he would have to ask the questions if they had any hopes in sustaining a conversation.

“I don’t need to be in water to breathe,” he said. “If that’s what you mean. But I would only be able to sit on rocks or land, unless I was to be carried.”

“I’m very strong,” Damen said.

“Delightful for you.” 

Damen took in his languid stance, leaning his weight against the rock despite the fact that he could easily stay upright without the support. He thought of his shifting stances that morning, his tail either rigid in place or swishing left and right. 

“Can I-“ Damen began, not wanting to overstep but still too curious to not try. “Can I see, again?”

The merman looked at him blankly, blinking once before his brows pinched in. “You want to see my tail?” When Damen nodded he said, “why?”

Damen lifted a shoulder. He wasn’t sure why, he had just thought it was fascinating. In the light. It had shone as if it was jewel incrusted, like something a sculptor might dream of creating.

To Damen’s surprise, he began laughing. It was a light, joyous sound, bouncing between the two of them in the darkness. Damen saw a flash of his sharper teeth. 

“What?” Damen asked, prompting him to shake his head, rubbing his face like Damen was speaking nonsense. 

“Do I think the sight of your legs are mesmerizing?” he asked, his words spurring on another bout of short laughter. 

“They are not even remotely the same,” Damen argued. “Legs are simple. Uninteresting. Everyone has them, they are just a means of moving around.”

“I think the concept you’re struggling to grasp,” the merman said, “Is that the aspects of your life and body being basic and dull to you are the same for me with mine.”

Damen hesitated as he opened his mouth, making a thoughtful sound. He considered that. 

But then the water was moving around despite the merman’s upper body remaining still, and then he saw the end of his tail, the two split ends rising up behind him, lifting out of the water so that it was above his back like a golden awning, water dripping around him. Damen’s eyes roamed the entirety of what he could see, resisting the strange urge to reach out and touch. 

“Am I to show you my legs now?” Damen asked.

The merman smiled at that, lowering his tail back into the dark water with a light splash. Damen couldn’t look away from the lovely curl of his lips. 

“Really,” the merman said. “Don’t you think it’s a bit foolish to not be even the slightest bit unnerved around me?”

“I don’t see why I would be,” Damen said. Despite his absolute certainty in his ability to take care of himself, he seemed harmless. Mostly.

“Ever heard of a siren song?” he asked, one golden brow arched.

It was now Damen’s turn to laugh, feeling lighter than he had in days. He loved what he and his crew did, but at times it could be very heavy on the mind. Damen reached into the side of his right boot, flipping the small dagger out and into the air with flick of his wrist that he caught with ease. 

“We run out of food on the ship quite often,” Damen said, sending a pointed look to his lower body. “I am notorious for scaling the fish that we catch.”

“I know many fish,” he replied. “I can tell them what ship and hooks to avoid.”

Damen froze with his dagger halfway to his boot, looking at the merman with widened eyes. “Are you really acquainted with fish?”

He didn’t receive a reply, only an amused smile that Damen couldn’t help sending back.

“Damen!”

Damen tore his eyes away and turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes moving briskly until he saw Nikandros standing at the doorway, poking his head out. He was frowning.

“Who are you talking to?” he called out.

Before Damen could reply he heard a sound like something being submerged, and it was instinct that told him to not check the water, to return Nikandros’ gaze.

“No one,” Damen replied. “You know I like to come here.”

After a few moments of silence Nikandros said, “The crew wants to discuss Isthima.”

Damen nodded. “I’ll be there soon.”

When Nikandros was gone, Damen turned back around to face the sea. He appeared to be alone, and he had no way of knowing if he truly was or not. As he contemplated how foolish sitting there made him look, the water broke and the merman lifted his head, pushing his hair back. A part of Damen expected him to be gasping for air, but of course that didn’t happen.

“I should go,” Damen said, the entire situation suddenly feeling very odd. The merman nodded, watching as Damen pushed himself up. 

“I-“ Damen said, looking back at the inn, back at the blue eyes he was starting to get very used to looking into. “I have one more day before I leave for Isthima,” he said, not letting himself think about what he was really saying. “Will you come back tomorrow?”

The merman ran his hands through his slicked back hair, a line of water running down his nose. He said nothing, but Damen saw the slow, subtle nod, right before he turned around, his back arching like he was preparing to dive in.

“Wait,” Damen said, just before he did. The merman stayed as he was, craning his neck back so he could look at Damen. 

“Can I know your name?” Damen asked.

He waited, the merman’s eyes scrolling the entirety of Damen’s body before they rose again, meeting his gaze. 

“Laurent.” 

And then he was turning back around, the upward flick of his tail the last thing Damen saw before he was gone.

 

The next morning Damen sat in the same spot, counting all the bricks he could manage on the outer wall of the inn, his legs spread forward in front of him. He felt some odd, remote twist in his stomach and ignored it, instead sifting through the sack of assorted treats that he had bought at the market the previous day, slipping a sliver of dried apricot between his lips.

Damen didn’t like feeling so unsure about himself, about his motives. It wasn’t like him. Laurent said he would come, and if he didn’t, what did it matter? He was interesting and a foreign beauty, but Damen knew plenty of that type, having seen things beyond people’s imagination. He didn’t know why he felt like he had when he was thirteen, docking on his first island of exotics. 

“Hi.”

Damen turned, some of his tension melting away when he saw Laurent there, taking up his same position like no time had passed since the previous night. 

“Hello,” Damen said. The twitch of Laurent’s mouth told him that any attempts at placidity were unsuccessful.

“You seem surprised,” Laurent said.

“I suppose I am,” Damen said. He rooted through the sack, picking out the remaining cashews. They tasted of caramelized salt, lightly glazed from the honeyed dates at the bottom. 

“I keep my word.”

“You owe me nothing,” Damen said.

“Perhaps I come here every day.” Laurent leaned his chin on his hands. “No one said I’m here for you.”

“ _I_ come here every day I’m in Ios,” Damen said. “I would have noticed you.” 

Laurent didn’t look away, but Damen didn’t expect him to. It was Damen who broke their gaze first, rummaging through the sack one last time and pushing it away when all that was left were sweets. 

“Well,” Laurent said. “That seems privileged.” 

“I don’t like sugar,” Damen said, inching the sack towards Laurent. “Have at it.”

He expected Laurent to scoff, or ignore it, or possibly push it away. He didn’t expect Laurent to grab at it with one hand and put the first thing he touched in his mouth without even checking to see what it was.

“All right,” Damen said. “So you have a sweet tooth.” 

Laurent ate two more candies before replying, licking his lips off and setting the sack down within reach. “We don’t have much sugar underwater,” he said. “The salt taints the flavor. It’s a half a day’s swim to reach anywhere with anything worth having.”

“Is it just…” He waved his hand around. “More water?”

“Not if you swim deep enough,” Laurent said. He read something on Damen’s face and said, “You wouldn’t be able to see it.”

Damen’s eyes drifted to the span of water that he watched every night from his ship in marvel, always wondering but never sure. He thought of what might lay beneath, allegories that he had read since he was a boy of enchanted kingdoms filled with colors and mystics that were too transcendent for his own world, all brought to life in this wondrous creature before him.

“How do you know?” Damen asked. “You wouldn’t imagine what I’m capable off.”

“It’s not humanly possible,” Laurent said, his amusement etched in challenge. “Just like I couldn’t climb onto your land and walk through the village, there would be a certain threshold in your swimming in which your capabilities would hit a barrier, and you wouldn’t be able to cross. But by all means,” he added, dropping one of his hands in. “Jump in and give it a go.”

Damen leaned forward on his hands. “Are you inviting me to outswim you?”

“I would truly like to see you try,” Laurent said, and Damen thought, _all right._

He was standing before he was thinking, kicking his boots off and sweeping them aside. Laurent’s eyes followed the movement, widening with each passing second as Damen pulled the bottom of his pants up as far as he could, looking at Laurent as he did.

“Relax,” Damen said, stepping forward to the edge of the rock. “It’s the middle of the day, if someone from my crew came out and saw me floating around in the water alone, I’d lose my position for lunacy.” He then lowered himself to the ground and sat back down, putting both of his legs in the water so that he was closer to Laurent than he had yet to be.

Laurent was looking at Damen, at his legs, at the space that separated them, back at Damen.

“Are you afraid?” Damen asked.

Laurent looked at him for a prolonged moment, probably testing out some barbed remark. About how Damen didn’t scare him, how nothing scared him. Maybe he was going to splash him again.

Laurent turned around so his back was to Damen, putting the smooth line of his spine and the drip of water from the damp ends of his hair on display as he brought his hands behind him, grasped the edge of the rock and hefted himself up next to Damen.

Damen felt momentarily stunned, somehow feeling like he had been yanked into the water. Laurent held his gaze as he leaned himself back on one arm, his tail flicking up beside them like a wave before swinging back in, disturbing the water by Damen’s legs. He seemed entirely unbothered by the possibility of being found.

“Anyone can come out and see you,” Damen said.

“I’m sure you’ll save me,” Laurent said dryly. It didn’t matter if he was joking, they could test out his theory if need be.

“Do you do this often?” Damen asked. At Laurent’s look, “sit on land.”

“Sometimes,” Laurent said. “I like to swim out to new places, observe what I can see of your world. I have my own spots too.”

Damen grinned. “I’ve seen paintings in markets,” he said. “Creatures like you, silhouetted by the moon, perched on a rock in the middle of the sea.”

Laurent tilted his head to the side. “Maybe it was me.”

Damen said, “I would know if it was you.”

Laurent said nothing, but Damen could feel his tail moving beside him in the water. He turned to look at it, watching the way it seemed to blend with its surroundings. Damen moved his own feet similarly, thinking about the upcoming trip they had. 

“What?” Laurent asked. “I can practically hear your thoughts.”

“It’s nothing,” Damen said. “I was just trying to imagine a life underwater.”

Laurent let out a huff of amusement, lifting a hand. “Ask a question,” he said. “I’ll give an answer.”

“Are their schooling systems?” 

“Yes.”

“Businesses?” 

“Of course.”

“Is the sea ruled by a king as well?”

“Yes.”

“Do you approve of him?”

Laurent’s lips quirked. “Sure.”

Damen forced his gaze upwards. “So,” he said. “There are... Acquaintances? Relationships?”

The more Damen asked, the more Laurent’s entertainment seemed to grow. “Yes, Damen. There is interaction, and that interaction turns into something.” 

Damen had heard his name spoken by people fluent in the language, but never from the lips of someone whose native tongue was Veretian. It sounded sensual, coming form him. Illicit, the way meeting him here felt.

Damen shifted his body slightly, leaning his weight back on his palms as he considered his words. “How do you…” He said, nodding his head towards Laurent. 

Laurent looked at him for a few seconds, the side of his mouth lifting again. “Fuck?”

“Yes.”

“What do you mean?”

Damen looked at him oddly, gesturing towards his glistening tail, swishing from side to side in the water that lapped around Damen’s calves. It seemed rather self-explanatory to him.

Laurent’s look changed in nature, a bit of laughter leaking out from between his lips in a breath. He turned away from Damen, looking at the ocean with bright eyes that shone in the sunlight, shaking his head.

“Wow,” Laurent said. “You humans must be very unimaginative.”

“First of all,” Damen said. “I am very imaginative. Second, you have a tail.”

“And?”

“… _And?_ ”

“Never mind,” Laurent smiled again. The more he did, the more Damen tried to will away his imminent departure. “Tell me. What was your most inventive experience of fucking?”

It took Damen a few seconds for the words to catch up with him. “I- what?”

Laurent repeated it in Akielon.

Damen could feel the shock on his face, struggling to get his thoughts back on track as Laurent laughed at him freely, looking at him like he was delighted by the turn in conversation. “You’re more bashful than I thought. Are you all so prudish?”

Before Damen could say anything, Laurent waved a hand. “Regardless, I have to go.”

“Go?” Damen said, hearing the way it sounded. Too quick Laurent was back in the water, turning fluidly so he was facing Damen again, bobbing in place. 

“There’s somewhere I need to be,” he said. “I’m already late.”

“I,” Damen looked behind him briefly. “I’m leaving for Isthima tomorrow,” he said. 

“You told me,” Laurent said. His face gave nothing away. He began to move farther into the water, and Damen could feel each continued stretch in his chest, like a rope being tugged. He turned, and in the second before he went under he said, “Good luck.”

He was gone.

 

Isthima was the same as it always was. Mundane, necessary. The island was as Damen remembered, his crew remaining in the shadows with their eyes averted and their weapons hidden, careful to bring no extra attention to themselves. That aspect of the trip was simple, straightforward. It had passed quickly and without issue, and they were back on the ship in no time at all, ready to sale onward. They had gotten precisely what they had been looking for, as Damen knew they would. Supplies, and a lead.

They had followed that lead for days, and when days turned to weeks they were only spurred on further, unrelenting in their growing lack of sleep, and their increasing determinacy. Lazar rarely left the crow’s nest, Nikandros fixated in his spot at the bow with his eyes unrelenting from the ocean, always at the ready.

Damen knew these types. He knew the ships to look for, just as he knew the way they masqueraded themselves form the rest of the world, disguised as vacationers, or even fellow pirates. He had seen enough to distinguish falsity from truth, and the sight had been just as engrained in the rest of his crew. 

When Damen had finally spotted what they had been looking for through his brass spyglass, large flags billowing in bright orange bursts against the horizon, he didn’t hesitate in turning around and bringing his fingers to his mouth, letting out the long, shrill whistle that his crew had been trained to recognize. The sound was their lullaby, the one thing that pulled them away from anything they may be doing, nothing more important than getting into position. 

It had been a long, brutal altercation, more than half the crew being needed despite Damen’s preference for his ship to remain sufficiently inhabited at all times. All faces became anonymous once the lever was pulled and the silver blades jutted out of the starboard, ramming the two ships together so that the members of _The Egeria_ could make the leap overboard and onto their target. 

Damen didn’t have to look to know how they all moved; the different way each of them utilized the ship’s parts to spring them into action. Swinging from ropes looping around sails, jumping off the support of beams and the gangplank, leaping from all the different vantages offered. He could hear the sounds of blades being unsheathed from every direction, the whistle and glide of spears in the air, two knives in Damen’s hands before his boots touched wood.

He saw the way Orlant knocked a sword out of someone’s hand and pushed them against the mast with a forearm to the neck, Vannes using the resistance that her weapons created against another man’s to slide under his legs, attacking from the back. Not too far off, the sound of Pallas butting his head into someone else’s. 

Damen didn’t know how long everything lasted, one canon blending into the next, fallen poles and rods eventually becoming more options of weaponry, rather an obstacle. It was the eventual grip of Nikandros’ hand that hand Damen stopping, dissonantly; forced to look up at the remnants of what had been done. 

Damen got up from his knees and sheathed his sword behind his back, ignoring his heaving chest as he walked up to the spar, taking a fistful of the orange sail and yanking it off the rig. It was already bloodstained and tattered, but that didn’t stop Damen from tearing it down the middle and tossing it into the sea.

He turned to his crew. “Bring Makon to me.”

Damen wasn’t sure how long ago that was. He hadn’t had much concept of time after that, Jord and Rochert eventually pulling him away. He had taken a few minutes to collect himself, wiping a hand across his mouth and rolling back his shoulders before he began pointing, giving orders. Take all survivors bellow deck. Put Makon in the brig. Bring all former slaves whatever provisions necessary, including accommodations in the berth. 

Now, Damen lay on the hammock in his quarters in the stern, throwing blades into the wall opposite him with a loud _thunk_ each time. His hat hung on a nail on a wall, typically choosing to opt for the blood red bandana that he wore unless he were on official business and required proper presentation. He had divested of his dark vest and wore his white linen shirt, untucked from his pants that held another darker bandana, winding through each loop and falling down the waist in place of a belt.

Damen closed his eyes, even as he threw the next blade. He tried to focus on the way the ship swayed in the water as a means of calming his adrenaline and tampering down his still present ire, but for once, the infinite comfort of the sea wasn’t enough to bring him back. As he reached beside him for another dagger, he wondered if anything would be.

 

Everything was quiet the next night, the ocean a silent lull that Damen watched lap against the shore in gentle waves. His crew was taking lodgings in one of the few inns Bazal offered, enough time having passed that they were either intoxicated, asleep, or otherwise occupied in bed. Damen had chosen to remain on the ship, refusing to leave the young men and women alone.

He sat on the gunwale, his legs hanging down the side of the boat so that his back was to the building and the main deck, his view of the water. He breathed in the tang of salted air, listening to the rhythmic sounds that called to him.

“Comfortable?” 

Damen’s eyes opened at the voice the second he realized it wasn’t in his head. He didn’t look around, nor did he look behind him to see if anyone was standing there, waiting to catch their Captain’s attention. He looked straight at the ocean.

Laurent was there, his weight leaning forward on the thin stretch of land that the ship was anchored by, his arms crossed against the rocks. His tail was moving in and out of the water, something in his stance resembling the comfortable pose of lying on your stomach with your legs kicked up in the air.

Damen was moving without thought, bringing a hand to the ledge and turning himself around, jumping down onto one of the beams that jutted outwards. He slid a blade out and grabbed onto a rope, slicing the tip around it so that he swung down, landing inches away from Laurent’s reclining figure. 

Laurent arched a brow as Damen pocketed the knife, tilting his head to the side. “I’m not impressed.” 

Damen didn’t know why he was smiling. He didn’t know how to stop smiling, for that matter. “You’re here,” he said.

“It would appear so.”

Damen took up the position he tended to when sitting by the water, close enough so that Laurent’s cheek would touch his knee if he brought it down to rest. He didn’t know when they had last seen each other, not entirely sure how long exactly he had been away. Days tended to muddle together when they each consisted of the same thing, including the same view.

“What are you doing in Patras?” Damen asked.

“I may have been in the area.”

Damen grinned. “Really.”

“Really,” Laurent said. And then, unexpectedly, returned Damen’s look.

Damen exhaled, looking up at the sky with his palms spread at his sides, welcoming the way his body felt lighter, some of the immensity weighing off his chest. He dug his fingers into the dirt.

“What is it?” Laurent asked. “You’re tense.”

“Do you have the gift of clairvoyance?” He murmured. 

“No,” Laurent said. “The gift of sight.”

Damen didn’t move. When he was silent, Laurent said, “Damen.”

Damen turned his head, and was surprised to find that Laurent had lifted himself from the water and was perched on the edge of the land, the same way he had sat beside Damen the day before he had left for Isthima. His scales glistened under the sky, his eyes nearly as dark as they searched Damen’s face.

“It’s nothing,” Damen said, looking at his ship. He wondered if they were awake, if they were still afraid.

Laurent’s gaze followed Damen’s. He was quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you accomplish what you set out to do?”

“Yes.”

“I see,” Laurent said. He asked nothing else, even when Damen faced him, and for that Damen was grateful.

They didn’t speak for a while; the sound of each other’s breathing and the water lapping against the rocks their only distraction. Eventually Damen let out another breath, ridding himself of the dour thoughts. Laurent was here, and he deserved Damen’s full attention.

Damen brushed Laurent’s fingers with his. “Will you tell me about your home?”

Laurent blinked, two rapid flutters of his lashes. “I have.”

“No,” Damen said. “What does it look like? Is it different than-“ He gestured around.

Laurent looked down his body, his fingers trailing along the lines and bumps of his tail as he lifted a shoulder. Damen’s eyes moved with the path his nails made, thinking of following it with his own fingers.

“It’s a bit different, I suppose,” he said. “But not in a way that you would understand, unless you saw it. The colors are more vibrant, the overall setting more… vivacious.” 

Damen felt his lips curl. “Are you calling my world boring?”

“Oh,” Laurent said. “You agree?”

Damen stretched his hands above his head, linking the tips of his fingers as he felt the pull and burn, keeping them that way as he lowered himself down so his back was pressed against the ground, the smatter of stars his view. He heard Laurent make a tangled sound, leaning forward slightly so he was looking down at Damen.

“What,” he said, “Are you doing?”

Damen gazed up at him. “Getting comfortable.” When Laurent looked at him strangely he patted the ground, crossing his legs.

Laurent frowned at the spot beside him, looking at Damen with just his eyes, his head still bent. 

“I can’t stay long,” he said, almost like a question. But he brought a hand to the same spot, balancing himself as he lowered his body slowly, on his side, before he carefully rolled himself onto his back. His hands hovered above his chest uncertainly, and Damen watched in charmed delight as he brought them down to his abdomen, right above the spot where skin faded into blue.

“Isn’t it nice?” Damen asked, motioning to the stars that glistened like diamonds over their heads.

Laurent’s shoulders seemed to twitch. “I can feel pebbles digging into my skin.”

Damen’s chest felt even fuller, turning himself enough so he could rest his cheek on his palm. “Tell me more about the ocean.”

Laurent was still looking upwards, and Damen could see the sporadic flick of his tail, coming in and out of his view. It was like a fish failing on land, though Damen knew he didn’t need to be immersed in water to breathe. 

“There is a kingdom as well,” Laurent said, which Damen already knew. “The capital is called Arles, which is where I live, though I frequent Acquitart as well.”

“How many underwater provinces are there?” he asked.

His lips pursed for a moment. “Eleven.”

“Have you been to them all?”

“Yes.”

He spoke plainly; not sounding disinterested or too engaged, his tone matter of fact. Damen figured that these kinds of discussions must be rather mundane for him, the way describing the roads in Ios or the color of the trees would be, but he couldn’t manage to quell his curiosity. He had always been interested in other cultures and beings, and he would much rather learn about it from the source, rather some exploration book that was debatable nonsense. 

A small wave hit one of the taller rocks behind them, sprinkling Laurent’s body in a mist of water. “Tell me a fact about one of them.”

Laurent’s laugh was soft, closemouthed. “Should I be worried about the extent of your questions?”

“Probably,” Damen said. “After I’ve rid the world of slavery, my next task will be the sea kingdom.”

“I’d like to see you go up against the king,” Laurent said, in a tone that was not exactly displeased. 

“So would I,” Damen replied, sincerely.

Something about that seemed to charm Laurent. His fingers skimmed his chest as he spoke. “We have three different forms of currency in my kingdom, and they’re made of gold, silver and copper. Our coinage originates from the province of Marches.” He shifted, minutely. “One side of a coin is a starburst, while the other is a crown. When a bet is made, the common saying is ‘stars or crowns’.”

Damen hummed thoughtfully. “On land we say ‘heads or tails’ before a coin toss.”

Laurent frowned, the line between his brows creasing. “Is that meant to be offensive?”

Damen wasn’t sure if he was joking or not, his features neutral, but he was helpless in the way he laughed, his hand falling to his side as Laurent’s mouth twitched at the sound.

“Humans,” he muttered. “So odd.”

Damen would shove him, if they were sitting upright. Instead he nudged him with his elbow, feeling warm all over when he felt Laurent nudge him back.

“So,” Damen said, weighing his next words, aware of how they might sound. “Is there any way for humans to- see your world?”

He waited, unaccustomed with the feeling of being on this end of things, on the side of vulnerable expectancy. He made his fingers unclench. 

“I’ve heard that there are certain stimulants that make it possible,” Laurent said, eventually. “Though I’m not sure how, exactly. I suppose there are ways, if I’m able to see yours, even if it is technically limited.”

Damen absorbed that, pleased at the spark of possibility, as miniscule as it felt. It was important that he knew these things, research purposes and all. 

“You read?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laurent said. He glanced at Damen. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“It’s not-“ Damen flushed. “I simply don’t see how you can read underwater is all.”

Laurent seemed to consider that, though the inward pull of his brows were more confused than considering. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “Water keeps the ink bold and the books from losing their polished look.”

Damen blinked, not seeing what response there was to that. 

Laurent’s grin was gradual. “Anything else?”

Damen’s eyes scanned his figure, his heart racing with the splendor of it all. He truly was otherworldly. 

“Do…” He considered how to ask the question, not wanting to sound foolish. “Does everyone’s tail match their coloring?”

Despite his careful wording, Laurent still found him amusing. “Most do,” he said. “My brother has similar coloring to me, though his hues are lighter. A friend of mine’s is made of the emerald of his eyes.” 

Damen thought of that, of all the people in his life with distinctive features and vibrancy, and of how they would look in a secretive world where everything seemed to come to life. 

His own features were dull, varying shades of brown that he couldn’t imagine in any ethereal way, though it didn’t matter much to him. Still, he felt compelled to voice his thoughts.

Laurent’s brows lifted slightly at his remark, turning his head then so their eyes were on each other. Damen watched as he observed him, and it was with a hitch in his throat and consciously controlled features that he held himself very still, not daring to move as Laurent’s fingers spun the small golden hoop in his ear, slowly. 

“I can see you in gold,” he murmured, fingertips trailing down his neck, so that they brushed the silken bandana that had been draped down his shoulders loosely, roughened by use and wear. “Or scarlet.”

His fingers were moving again, close enough to his mouth than any whisper, any word would cause his skin to heat with Damen’s breath, Damen’s own skin heating in a new way. He didn’t know why he felt like he had been doused in an aphrodisiac, like he had taken a mouthful of the _Hakesh_ that they had traded in Vask for their _Chalis._ When Damen lifted his eyes to Laurent’s, he saw that his lips were wet.

A crash sounded then, Damen’s hand less than an inch away from his waist which he had been about to wrap his arm around, preparing to pull him in. Damen’s eyes fell shut as he rolled onto his back, knowing he needed to get back on deck and tend to whatever it was, a part of him thinking he would have to be pulled away.

Laurent was pushed up as Damen turned back to him, in the water so quick that it was like he was never on land at all, the symmetrical line of their bodies a figment of his imagination. Damen felt sluggish as he pushed himself up, wanting nothing more than to pull Laurent into his arms and to show him _his_ home.

Damen knew he needed to speak. One of them needed to.

“I’m returning to Ios,” he said. “Though I don’t know how long it will take.”

Laurent nodded, low enough in the water that he was only visible from above the neck.

“Don’t worry,” he said. And before Damen could question him or even process the words, Laurent was gone.

 

It was another week before Laurent had found him again.

They were passing through Akielos having docked in Thrace a matter of hours ago, the sun at its highest peak in the sky. Damen was outside a tavern with Vannes – a place that felt slightly unnerving in the daytime – seated on a barrel across from her, cleaning one of her wounds.

“This is an overreaction,” she said, tearing a peace of cloth off with her teeth. 

Damen accepted the cloth from her, lifting a shoulder as he soaked it in disinfectant salve. “If Nikandros were here, he would say you sound like me.”

“No he wouldn’t,” she said. “He wouldn’t speak to the Captain like that.”

“That is certainly not the case,” Damen muttered in reply, tossing the vial aside. Nikandros had absolutely no qualms with voicing his disagreements or issues with Damen, especially when it came to how he chose to spend his time. Or more specifically, who with. 

It shouldn’t have surprised Damen, really. He hadn’t been exactly sure what he would find when he boarded the ship the previous week to check on the sporadic crashing sound, but seeing that Nikandros had at some point returned as well and had appeared to kick over a barrel was not at the top of his list of guesses. 

Damen had observed the contents that had rolled out and around the deck, wondering whose idea it was to leave such perishable items in such an accessible place. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked.

“Captain,” Nikandros had said. Single words seemed to be what he could manage, because all he followed it with was, “why?”

Damen sat himself down on a crate, leaning forward on his knees. “There are many responses I could come up with to a vague question like that.”

Nikandros’ face was in his hands, the tips of his fingers pushing into his eyes. Damen wondered how far Laurent was by then.

“Damen,” he’d said, with the weariness of someone whose grip was slipping from the ledge of patience. “He is not even human.”

“Nikandros,” Damen admonished, tisking. “You’d think after all that we’ve seen together, you’d be a little more adventurous.”

“He is half fish!”

“I know,” Damen smiled. “He’s lovely, isn’t he?”

Their following interactions had consisted primarily of that, with as much eye rolling and bland remarks about their meals of seafood that Nikandros could manage without overstepping the boundaries of respect that he had set up in his mind. Damen didn’t mind much when it came to Nikandros, but he knew a lost cause when he saw one. He had long ago learned that he was only comfortable treating Damen as his friend rather his superior when they were mostly alone.

After Vannes had been finished and re entered the tavern, Damen settled himself comfortably onto the bench with his legs spread slightly, his hands resting on his stomach. He watched as men and women rolled crates onto different boats to be traded or sold, each one departing for a different Akielon province. Not too far off, a young woman walked around with a jug of wine and a tray of smaller glasses, offering samples. Damen declined, it was too early for his mind to be muddled.

He slumped further down in his heat, luxuriating in the few moments where he was alone and didn’t need to hold himself to the constantly pristine standard that his crew seemed to accredit him with. He continued to look around with hooded eyes, foot tapping. 

There was something to be said for people watching, a pastime that Damen would only notice he was doing once he realized how focused he was. He saw two small children sitting on the ground, the bottoms of their feet touching as they played a game consisting of counting and clapping. He saw an older woman sitting on her own bench a ways off, a book balanced on one leg that was crossed over another. He saw blue eyes just peaking out of water, watching him.

Damen blinked impulsively; aware that the ungraceful nature of the forceful way he pushed himself up had likely called a bit of attention to himself. He looked around hurriedly to see if anyone saw what he did, his heart rate still not eased despite what seemed to be general oblivion. 

When he turned back he saw that Laurent had lifted himself out of the water enough that Damen could see the crooked tilt of his lips, followed by a quick nudge of his head to the side. Damen followed the directive and saw a pathway leading down, one that led behind the row of boats. When he checked to see if Laurent nodded in confirmation, he saw that he was gone.

Tossing a hasty look over to ensure that none of his crew was just stepping out, he abandoned his lone spot and made for the pathway that he had been directed to, keeping his eyes forward as he walked with a pace of straight shoulders and easy steps, reminding himself to not look too eager, too intent. For all anyone knew, he was enjoying a stroll along the riverbank, minding his own business. 

Damen found that the pathway led to a series of caves, dark and low, separate from the rest of the port. It was odd that Damen had never noticed it before, but in retrospect, he had no reason to.

The dark walls arched over him in a cocoon that blocked out the rest of the world, the sides damp and echoing as he stepped through, fingers trailing stone. Light streamed in through the opening he had entered from, gleaming across the water that flowed in and lapped against the walls, the sounds low and soothing like a rowboat swaying by the shore. When Damen looked down, he saw Laurent gazing up at him.

“I think that I should start feeling concerned,” Damen said. “By your unnerving capabilities of knowing where I am.”

“I told you,” Laurent said. “You’re large and not easy to miss. I would have to try if I wanted to avoid you.”

“I missed you too,” Damen said.

Damen saw the way Laurent reacted to that, and pretended not to. He sat himself down so he was a hand space away from where the ledge started, watching the way the slow water currents reflected off the walls in a wavering glow.

“You know,” Laurent eventually said, moving back the few feet that the water spanned so his back was leaning on the stone, his arms spread along the edges like he was soaking in a bath. “You always appear to be lounging when I see you.”

Damen gazed at him flatly, unamused by the insinuation. He knew that Laurent could tell from the twitch of his mouth. “Your timing is bad.”

Laurent made a soft humming sound, tipping his head back with closed eyes. His tails swished through the water and created a subtle tide between them. It shifted in flecks of gold like it was dusted in embers, and Damen was unable to look anywhere else.

It was hard for Damen to believe that he was here, that the two of them were alone again like no time had passed since that night. It astounded him that it could be like this, that what had initially been so tense and unsure could become this thing where he laughed with ease, with someone who didn’t care that Damen was a Captain of a ship or that he was renowned throughout the kingdom. 

“Why are you far away?” Damen asked. 

“Why not?” Laurent mumbled, head still tilted up.

“I want to be close to you,” Damen said.

He opened one eye first, then the second, slowly. His tail stopped moving like his gaze required his entire body’s focus, eyes sweeping Damen’s figure.

“You could always come here,” He said, in a drawl that made it sound like more of a dry challenge than anything else. Luckily for them both, Damen always enjoyed a challenge. 

He remembered the first time he had removed his boots with the insinuation of jumping in, though then he had done nothing more than sit at the edge and swing his legs in. As he kicked his shoes off now he saw from the ease in Laurent’s eyes that that memory was fresh in his mind as well, halting any real possibility, and he fought his own smile as the unlacing of his jacket caused that ease to melt away, his eyebrows rising. 

Having divested all his outer garments and weaponry, Damen moved forward in nothing but his pants and his flimsy undershirt, watching Laurent’s reaction with each step.

“Were you joking?” Damen asked, crouching down.

Laurent’s eyes moved with Damen as he lowered himself. “Your clothes will be soaked,” he said.

“Luckily,” he dipped a hand in to feel the temperature. “Water dries,” he said, before entering the water.

It was cold. Not enough to seize up his body or shock his nerves, but enough that he was aware of the chilling sensation as he pushed his hair off his face, water trickling down his neck. It was shallow enough inside the cave that Damen’s shoulders came out if he stood on his toes, dipping down deep enough that he would have to tread only if he swam out and into the open.

Laurent’s hands had stilled at his sides, his fingers that were skimming the surface no longer making that pattering sound. 

“Do you not-“ He looked outside the cave. “Have somewhere to be?”

“No.” He heard the swishing echo his body made as he waded through the water. 

“Where is your crew?”

“Most likely intoxicated,” Damen said. He was at Laurent’s side, Laurent now straightened so that he bobbed steadily in the water, needing to look up to meet his eyes. 

They had sat together on land before, the two of them exposed to the other’s eye. He didn’t know why being underwater together, being close like this felt so different, the aspect of who they each were, how different they were on the outside feeling so much more magnified. He would think that being submerged would be less baring, but he only felt more aware of it all, the pull inside him like an anchor dropping.

“It’s the middle of the day,” Laurent said. “That seems irresponsible.”

He spoke more when he was nervous, Damen realized. He leaned against the ledge where the water stopped and the end of the path began, the spread of his arm along the edge consciously relaxed. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Damen said. Holding up his weight allowed him to kick his legs out, his feet floating beside the ends of Laurent’s fins. He noticed Laurent looking as well, watching as he pulled his eyes up. 

Damen gazed at him patiently. He’d had enough conversations with Laurent to know when he was trying to formulate his thoughts.

“Is it not-“ he seemed to be testing out each word before voicing it. “Strange to you?”

Damen stared at him. “What?”

“My-“ he looked down. “This.”

“What?” Damen said.

Laurent’s uncertainty shifted to annoyance. “Stop being obtuse.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” Damen said. “When have I ever indicated that I find you anything but beautiful?”

“I’m not talking about my,” he waved a hand upwards. “Features.”

“Neither am I.”

“You explore the ocean,” Laurent said, deliberately slow. “You have an open mind, I’m aware of that. That doesn’t mean it crosses a line of-“

“I’m not fascinated by you because I find you interesting,” Damen interrupted. “I’m fascinated by you because I think you’re mesmerizing.”

Laurent stared at him for a moment. “I’m just different from your norm.”

“You’re exquisite,” Damen said. He wanted to push the hair out of Laurent’s face, to feel the way his palm cradled his cheek. 

He felt it as Laurent observed him similarly, the hand supporting his own weight close enough to Damen’s that their fingers could brush. He didn’t know if Laurent had drifted closer, or if the small confines of the cave made it seem that way.

“You’re decent,” Laurent finally said. “For a human.”

Damen felt his pleasure in the curve of his lips, everything around them feeling instantaneously warmer as Laurent drew nearer. “Do you think?”

Laurent’s hand was covering his; close enough that Damen could see the way his throat rolled. “I don’t do this,” he said. “Often.”

Damen’s smile softened. “I know,” he said, gently, before reaching for him.

The kiss was slow, tentative; unlike the way Damen wrapped an arm around his waist and pushed him against the wall of the cave. He felt Laurent’s fist close against his shirt as he opened his mouth in a soft gasp, Damen’s lips parting against his.

Damen’s entire body felt aware of the moment as Laurent brought a hand to his neck, nails sharp on him. Laurent was always sharp comments and rough angles but he was soft in Damen’s arms, shuddering against him as he tilted his head and kissed him harder.

Damen heard the roughness of their breathing between each kiss, every individual sound more pronounced in the small area around them, hollow and damp. Damen had one palm flat against stone and the other curled around his body, feeling each smooth curve. Damen’s chest tightened with pleasure as he sucked Laurent’s bottom lip between his own, and he heard the gutted sound that left his mouth when he felt Laurent’s tail flick against him like an uncontrollable instinct. 

Daringly, Damen moved his hand lower so that it skimmed the area where skin blurred into scales, hesitant as he looked for any signs of unease in Laurent’s body. He pulled back looking for assent, desire flaring when he found it shone back to him in dark eyes.

Damen kissed him slower, deeper as he dragged a hand down, his palm gliding along this new part of him. It felt different; slick with something Damen had never felt before, each rigid bump like pushing your hands into a barrel of jewels. He wanted to touch him everywhere. 

When he finally pulled away he was panting, both of Laurent’s hands tight in his hair. The water between their chests lapped against them as they looked, Laurent’s own golden hair mussed from Damen’s hand.

“You-“ Damen breathed, unable to say anything else. Both of his hands were on Laurent’s sides.

Laurent’s face was flushed. His cheeks were pink from it, spreading down his neck. Damen wanted to put his mouth against him, to mark him there.

He released Laurent and stepped back, knowing that he most likely required space. He didn’t know if to turn away or move even more, unsure what to do with himself. 

He didn’t know if Laurent sensed it, or maybe he just wanted to touch Damen again, but he reached out and grabbed at his wrist, stopping him from putting more distance.

“Don’t,” he said.

Damen felt his shoulders loosen, his chest untightening. His clothes were clinging to him uncomfortably, and he had no idea how he was going to explain his state to anyone, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

Laurent swam around him and closer to the opening, his movements fluid as he glided slowly. He looked out to the horizon for a moment before he turned back to Damen, his expression unreadable. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, causing Damen’s heart to stutter. “I need to leave.”

Damen looked back at him, at a loss for words. They- He’d thought-

“It’s not that,” Laurent said, swimming closer to him again. His hand hovered in the air before he rested it on Damen’s shoulder, awkwardly. “I have- obligations.”

“Obligations,” Damen repeated.

“Yes.”

There was not much Damen could say to that, especially given how vague of a response it was. Laurent seemed to be aware of that because he said, “I’ll explain when I next see you.”

It was Damen who grabbed his wrist this time, stopping Laurent from leaving. “When will that be?”

“Soon.”

“Laurent.”

“I don’t know,” Laurent said, looking out to the outward flow of the water again. “But as soon as I can, I’ll find you.”

It would have to be enough. Releasing him, Damen nodded his head once. “Until then.”

 

Damen didn’t know if to say if it had been long or short before he saw Laurent again, no longer knowing what was normal or what was to be expected with him. He had been aware of every moment apart, every second that was another separating them from their time together in the cave, so brief and unbelievable that Damen would have thought it had been imagined, had he not still been able to feel the rattle of it in his bones.

Every minute since that day had been spent thinking about the way his sea lilted accent sounded around Damen’s name, the way his hands felt wrapped around his neck. 

Laurent kissed like it was all that mattered, putting into the simple, sweet exchange the same focus and enthusiasm that other people put in their daily work and efforts. He pulled Damen in as close as possible, short of physically melding them together. He ignored the barriers that kept them apart, the future that was too hazy to think about, like the two of them together in the secret world they had formed would always be enough.

When he finally came back to Damen, they had been docked in Ios for a number of days filled with mundane responsibilities, one of them being the task of re acclimating to life in between voyages. It was a necessity that Damen both disliked, and tolerated because he knew it would only be temporary, a blip in time before he felt like himself again. 

Damen had been in his room at the inn, just passing by the open balcony when he had seen him. In the water, lounging in the spot the two of them would occupy without a care in the world, not seeming at all disturbed by the prospect of being seen. He wasn’t even looking to the direction of the building, not doing anything to catch Damen’s attention, or awareness. He was just there, waiting.

Damen had weighed his options of going from the regular stairwell, knowing who he might bump into and what questions might arise. He’d briefly considered the possibility of scaling down the wall before realizing that he was the Captain, and he didn’t have to answer to anyone.

That was precisely what he told Laurent once they were face to face, when Damen may have chanced a look or two over his shoulder. 

“Tell me,” Laurent said, and Damen just wanted to hold him. “How did you come to be the Captain?”

He was acting as if nothing had changed. Or perhaps, nothing _had_ changed. Damen wasn’t sure, but what he _did_ know was that he wasn’t about to let anything that had transpired go.

They were the only two around. Most of the doors in the inn had been closed as Damen had walked through the hall, and Rochert and Kashel had been their way out to the marketplace, notifying him that most of the crew was there as well.

“Are we to exchange stories?” Damen asked, not quite able to quell his grin as Laurent lifted himself to sit beside him, unabashed in the way the entirety of him was on display. “Because I believe you owe me one as well.”

“Do I?” Laurent asked. “I don’t think I quite mentioned a story.”

“I remember.” Damen leaned back on a palm. “I think the word was ‘explanation.”

Laurent’s mouth moved to the side, a twist of his lips that could mean a number of different things. A seagull flew above them, its shadow gliding across the water as Laurent said, “you first.”

Damen rubbed the end of the bandana hanging down his thigh between his fingers, the material as familiar as his own skin to him.

“You know what I do,” Damen said. 

Laurent nodded.

“It was just Nikandros and I, at first,” he said, releasing the cloth. “We had heard rumors about a man we knew vaguely, that he was involved in…” 

He let the air fill his lungs, held it in his chest. Exhaled. 

“It seemed to have doubled in scale, after that,” Damen continued. “Or maybe it was just the way my eyes had opened to it, I don’t know.”

He rubbed his face. “I had acquaintances who were skilled in certain areas, comrades that I had grown up with. I knew what they all had to offer, and where their morals were rooted. Some were light on their feet, fluid in their movements. They had gathered information and brought it to my attention.”

He watched as an orange fish swam around his legs, cutting through the stream. “I had grown up around sailors, the notion wasn’t foreign to me. I had inherited enough money to afford a ship, and it was two years ago that I weeded out any mistakes that I may have initially made in my circle, and that was the solidification of The Egeria.”

Laurent looked at him. “And the captaincy?” 

“It never seemed to be a question,” Damen replied. He had taken the fact that everyone had seemed to turn to him in stride, and he couldn’t imagine doing it differently. He wouldn’t, honestly.

Laurent was still watching him, unmoving. Damen had seen a lot in his time doing what he did, and he recognized the sullen look in his eyes. It was never something he enjoyed, much less on Laurent. 

“So,” Damen nudged him with his elbow. “Let’s hear it.”

Laurent made a low sound in his throat, his eyes moving again so he was looking ahead of them both. Damen followed his gaze, looking out onto the water that he now knew held more than he had ever imagined possible.

“Should I be concerned?” Damen raised a brow.

Laurent continued to face forward. “It’s nothing riveting.”

“All right,” Damen said. “Underwhelm me.”

“I’m simply related to someone of significant importance.”

“Significant importance.”

“Yes.”

“And this-“ _Merman? Mermaid?_ “Someone, requires your presence at sporadic times?”

“Well, It’s not that _he_ requires me,” Laurent said. Merman. “More so his position.”

Damen looked around them. “Is this a riddle?”

Laurent’s tail moved in circles, the ends of his fins skimming the surface so that their reflections wavered in rings. Damen waited.

“Have I mentioned that I have a brother?”

“Yes,” Damen said. “You told me he has lighter coloring.”

“Right,” Laurent said. “He also has control over the ocean.”

Damen blinked. Frowned. He considered again the possibility of this being a riddle.

“I’m fairly certain I‘ve mentioned that we are ruled by a king as well,” Laurent continued.

Damen’s thoughts moved slowly. “Your brother is the king?”

“Correct.”

“So you-“ Damen’s eyes swept him from top to bottom. “You’re a prince?”

Laurent lifted a shoulder. “I think of myself more as a second son, but yes.”

Damen looked forward, wordless. He had a vague memory of voicing his interest in going up against the sea king. He watched Laurent’s fingers move in the water as he contemplated between a few different comments. 

Evidently, the one he went with was, “So, technically, I am to call you Your Highness?”

Something about that made Laurent’s nose scrunch, his body stilling. He turned enough so that he was facing Damen. “No.”

“Is the terminology different?”

Laurent’s expression didn’t change. “No titles.” 

Damen had mainly been kidding, but the persistence of Laurent’s tone and the furrow of his brow gave him pause. “None?” He asked, tentatively. 

“No,” Laurent repeated. “I like hearing you say my name.”

And then he flushed, hard. He faced forward the instant the words left him, saying nothing else. Damen felt his own expression soften, coupled with a rush of something predatory that he couldn’t remember ever feeling before, at least not like this. He wanted to open himself up and show Laurent everything he kept hidden at his core, and that too was new.

“Laurent,” he said.

He said it with a hand at the middle of his tail, his palm sliding up the center as he watched Laurent raise his eyes to his. It was cautious and slow like the gold of his lashes held weight, fluttering in a way that may have not been intended to entice but did just that as Damen thumbed at his side, his hand nearly closing around the entirety of his waist.

It was Laurent that kissed him first, a hesitant press of his lips that only lasted a second, pulling back immediately after. He didn’t go far, enough to look at Damen like he was looking for protest, finding nothing of the sort. It was followed by a second, a third, Damen’s mouth and hands remaining placid so Laurent could take control as he wished.

Damen pushed down his confusion when he felt a hand move to his chest and press, bringing him down so he was on stone, laid out on his back. It was a few seconds before the sunlight was blocked, Laurent’s hovering above him in a shadow, and then they were kissing again.

It was unexplainable, a fantasy come to life to have Laurent hold him down and take him as he wished, his hands moving over the span of Damen’s chest, trailing down his thighs. The length of their bodies were touching, Laurent on top of him as much as he could be without the support of legs, Damen’s own hands moving to wrap around him and hold him close as he could.

They were outside, in broad daylight. He knew no one ever came out back to this side of the inn and that everyone was either asleep or gone, but they could technically be found at any minute. Any second.

Laurent had to know that. He wondered if that was part of what aided in his current disposition, if the prospect of being caught was a sort of a thrill to him. He was agile enough, taking the shift and roll that brought him to his back with Damen on top of him with what seemed to be enthusiasm, his mouth open beneath Damen’s.

They kissed for what felt like an endless stretch of time, a short interlude in which Damen’s lips found each part of Laurent’s skin that made him sigh and writhe, and Damen’s theory seemed to be sufficiently proven when he felt Laurent’s hand move between his legs.

Damen immediately stilled, his lips slack against Laurent’s so that he was panting against him, unable to do anything else as he felt Laurent’s fingers move beneath the nimbly opened laces and wrap around him.

One of Damen’s hands moved down to the pavement so he was bracing himself, not wholly trusting his knees to not give out and crush Laurent with his weight. Laurent’s grip was firm, the slide of his hand unrelenting and steady in a way that threatened to break Damen apart. A fraction of his mind was fixated on the fact that Laurent was touching him - a human – knowledgably. The rest of his mind, the rest of his body was entirely transfixed by the wracking pleasure that each stroke brought him.

It felt illicitly audacious, wildly transgressive to be out there doing this. Damen felt each hitch in his throat, each press of Laurent’s thumb like a skip of his heart, like a footstep approaching, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to stop, to _want_ to stop. Everything about Laurent was an unmatched potency that Damen had never experienced, unavoidable and forceful like the call of the ocean. 

Looking up at him was galvanizing in its own way, a daring possessiveness that was twinned in both of them, heightened by the act of looking into each other’s eyes. Damen’s thighs trembled with the need for release, his stomach clenching hotly when Laurent’s lashes lowered in knowing satisfaction. 

He looped a finger in one of the trailing laces of Damen’s shirt and tugged, pulling him down so he could reach up and take his mouth, catching any broken sound that Damen made with his own as he felt the first burst of pleasure surge through him like the rush of a wave.

It felt like an age before Damen finally came back to himself, his body slumped against Laurent’s with his face pressed into his neck. He was warm, one arm still circled around Damen proprietorially, his chest moving unevenly beneath him. Damen thought he could feel his heartbeat. 

He wasn’t thinking as he pressed an open kiss to his shoulder, to the side of his ribcage. Laurent’s fingers dug into him so his shirt clenched in his hold, but he was otherwise wordless. It was so silent around them, nothing but the synchronous chirp of the birds and the sound of Damen’s lips moving against him. He ran a hand down the side of Laurent’s scales, felt the way he seemed to roll into the touch.

“Tell me what i can do for you,” Damen said. He felt his voice come from somewhere deep in his chest. He looked up and saw Laurent watching him carefully, everything in his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Laurent said. His hand moved from one shoulder blade to the next, like he was mapping out the expanse of Damen’s back.

Damen looked back down at his tail, stumped. Never had he been in a position of such a lack of expertise, and it was not a situation he particularly enjoyed. Laurent had insinuated in the past that his kind were capable of having sex, a matter he still couldn’t wrap his mind around. Damen frowned a little, unsettled by the thought of other mermen pleasuring Laurent in ways he couldn’t.

“Damen,” Laurent said. When he looked up, “This is good.”

“But-“

“I always feel good,” Laurent said. “With you.”

He went pink again despite the steadiness of his words, and Damen felt it in a shocking rush of pleasure. Moving back up into Laurent’s space was instinctual, nuzzling into his neck helpless.

“Really,” he said, his voice rich with warmth. He laid himself down so he was on his hip, the two of them splayed out by each other’s side, his arm draped across Laurent.

Laurent’s neck was curved so they were at eye level. “Yes.”

It was ridiculous, how good Damen felt in that moment. He had accomplished more in his twenty five years than most people in a lifetime, experienced more thrill than most knew possible, and yet laying there with Laurent in the sun soaked warmth, his bones still feeling like melted butter made him feel more young, more alive than any achievement, an expedition ever had. 

Damen’s hand found Laurent’s in the small space between them, smiling helplessly when he felt the uncertain stiffening, fingers stilling before they laced through Damen’s.

Damen’s thumb brushed his. “So do i.”

 

The days that followed were like a collection of sketches and drawings, crammed into one bundle so that you could flip through the pages like a novel and see each one blend into the next, so fast and blurred that eventually they all seemed like one large, recurring picture.

That was what it felt like every day with Laurent, every moment they managed to steal together. Every time he looked over his shoulder and saw him, waiting for Damen. 

Damen was a busy man. Whether he was on the sea or on land, there was always something to do. Plans to be made, people to negotiate with. It wasn’t too often that he could steal time for himself, and he wouldn’t be wholly satisfied even if he could. He liked having goals, and the rigorous effort that went into achieving them. It was trying, at times. There were many instances where he could do nothing but tear himself into a hundred pieces, pull himself into every direction that required him, but that was not all there was. At the end of many long nights and at unsuspecting days, there was also this.

There was the time Laurent had presented him with a small square, a multitude of colors that were so vivid that he felt like he had never seen them before, blending into one another. It was the texture of taffy. 

“What is it?” Damen asked, turning it over.

“I’ve told you about the sweets in the ocean,” Laurent said as a response.

That felt so long ago, another lifetime when they were just strangers. He remembered Laurent tasting the candy from his own world, the way he told him that it was half a day’s swim to retrieve anything good. Damen’s chest felt full, his smile soft in gratitude. He lifted the square to his mouth, eager and curious.

He probably lasted somewhere around three seconds before spitting it out, sputtering. Laurent’s brows raised in rapid speed before his laughter hit him hard, his arm flying out to a rock to catch himself from slipping further into the water.

“What-“ Damen spat again, away from his direction. “Is that.”

Laurent took one of the other sweets he had brought and set out for Damen to eat, slipping it through his lips that were still letting out a little breathless laughter. 

“It’s from Belloy,” he said, chewing. “You don’t like it?”

“It tastes-“ Damen wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. “Like glazed seaweed.”

Laurent’s laughter stalled, his head tilting. “Well, yes.”

Damen just looked at him, trying to hide the revolt on his face when Laurent reached for another.

There was the time he’d rested his head on Laurent’s midsection where skin blurred, Laurent’s fingers light on his scalp as he swept them through his hair and told him of the latest ocean gossip, or asked Damen questions about life on land. He wanted to know of the typical style of dress, and if it was true that human women walked around bare breasted or if it was simply a rumor that some of the mermaids whispered about. 

“Akielon women do in the summer,” Damen replied, melting into his touch when Laurent’s palm smoothed down the side of his neck.

“Why?” he asked, angling his head back enough to catch his eye. “Where you hoping to see something?” And received a sharp tug on his hair as a response. 

They discussed a range of things, varying in importance and seriousness, but the one that seemed to circle back without either of them realizing until the topic was broached was the matter of who they were, and what that meant.

Damen didn’t know what they were to each other. Or at least, what he was to Laurent. He didn’t know much about his personal life underwater, but he knew that he couldn’t seem to remember the last time anyone else had managed to even pique his interest. Being with Laurent, this bright thing that they had created was like a newfound treasure to him, but he was also pragmatic. 

“Does it not-“ he started, and stopped. 

Laurent touched his cheek. “What?”

Damen watched a cloud roll over them, covering the sun enough that he didn’t have to squint.

“This is important to me,” he said. “You are important to me.”

He couldn’t see Laurent’s expression, but he heard the pause before he spoke. “So are you.”

Damen turned his head enough so that his cheek was resting on him rather the back of his head, the end of his tail now in view. “You can never truly see my world,” he continued. “And I can never see yours.”

Another pause. “No.”

He looked away again. “And I can understand if it’s not enough.”

Laurent’s hand stilled in his hair. “What?”

Damen tried not to sigh, but the need to alleviate the weight on his chest was strong. “I wouldn’t fault you,” he said. “If you wanted- more.” 

Laurent was silent. Laurent was often silent, so it didn’t shock Damen when this silence was longer, more pronounced.

“Is that what you want?” Laurent asked.

His voice was neutral enough, not quite distant but lacking the usual lilt that Damen would recognize as his in just a hum, or even a whistle. His hand had pulled away.

Damen didn’t change his position, not wanting to lose the warmth of Laurent’s body, the closeness. He spoke honestly.

“I want anything you are willing to give me,” he said, candidly. “And I would give it back tenfold.” 

“Then why-“ Laurent said, but he didn’t finish the sentence. His voice trailed off, and Damen made himself find the courage to shift, to lift his head enough that he could see his face, see whatever was passing in his eyes.

He was looking down at Damen wordlessly, expression strapped down in careful consideration. He seemed to be thinking, and all Damen could do was wait. 

“Damen,” he said, eventually. He seemed to hesitate with his hand before touching Damen’s chest, briefly. “You are enough.”

Damen closed his eyes, mollified. He reached for Laurent’s hand and brought his wrist to his mouth, wishing he had the words to tell Laurent that he was more than enough.

There was the second time Damen joined Laurent underwater, or the third, or the fourth. What had been hesitant and unsure at first had quickly turned into eagerness, their swims together something he could look forward to, something incomprehensibly intimate that he had never shared with anyone else. They swam together at sunrise, at dusk, at the darkest points of nightfall.

Damen’s favorite times where in the day, when the water was transparent enough that he could dip his head below the surface and see Laurent in all his splendor, the watery haze of the background and the sea life around him like the blurred strokes and swirls of a portrait. 

It was like the nostalgic lightheartedness of harmless wrestling when he was young, tumbling around with a companion and enjoying the thrill of it all, but it was more. It was playful and new, the two of them connected in a way most people couldn’t be, and it touched Damen in a personal way that Laurent was willing to share this sort of thing with him, whether it was splashing water into his unsuspecting face or taking Damen’s hand and pulling him with him at his unnatural speed.

There were times where Damen tried to outswim Laurent, uselessly, the two of them panting by the time they reached another flat surface and ended up rolling atop each other, kissing like it would be their last chance. Damen was breathless because of the physical exertion of swimming. He knew the water didn’t exert the same energy from mermen.

There was the night - one of their last few nights of solitude – where Laurent had been sitting beside him on a rock with his eyes on the moon, his wrists twisting as he wrung the water out of his hair. Damen had just commenced a meeting with his crew, and their next step had been decided, the wheels already long ago set in motion. It was a conversation he needed to have with Laurent, and wasn’t ready for just yet. Instead, they spoke about family.

“My ship is named after my mother,” Damen said, when Laurent looked behind them to where it was docked and asked about it. “She died when I was young, but I have scarce memories of her teaching me how to sail.”

“And your father?” Laurent asked.

“He died shortly after,” Damen said. 

“I’m sorry,” Laurent said. His hair was starting to dry, the ends tangling below his shoulders.

“Don’t be,” Damen replied. “You can make your own family. I have my crew.”

Laurent was toying with the spyglass that Damen had unintentionally brought with him, having pulled it out of one of his belt loops. He had meant to leave it in his room, but was happy with the mistake when Laurent rolled it around in his hands with an odd expression. He shook it by his ear, glancing at Damen.

“What is this?”

Damen smiled as he took it from Laurent, turning it over the proper way before placing it back in his hand. “Place your eye by that,” he said, pointing to the end. “You’ll be able to see things that are far away, clear as if it’s right before you.”

He did so without question, turning his body so he was looking out onto what small bit of town they could see from their vantage. Damen watched the way his lips parted slightly, moving it away in a jolt and looking normally before bringing it right back. The wonder on his face caused tenderness to well in Damen’s chest.

“What about you?” Damen asked. “Do you have more family?” 

“No,” Laurent said. “It’s just Auguste.”

“Is he much older than you?”

“Around eleven years.”

Damen smiled. He knew they were close, and he liked the thought of Laurent having someone else who cherished him, the way he deserved. 

He thought of the young merman that Laurent had told him about days after they met, the one who had been taken. It hurt a part of Damen that the thought might always be darkened because of the things he had seen, and it only tore him deeper to think that despite his hardest efforts, such things might always exist.

Still, that hadn’t stopped Damen from turning to Laurent the day before they had parted for the night and telling him, “I will avenge the boy you knew.”

It was a promise that Damen felt deep in him, and he vowed to himself that he would find a way to keep it. He didn’t care if he had to sail all the kingdoms, every body of water in the world until he took every one of them down. If it was all Damen could offer, then he would dedicate his life to it.

And Laurent had looked at him and said, firmly, “I know.”

“How does Auguste feel about you sneaking away to see the humans?” he asked now.

Laurent grinned thinly. “As long as I don’t question his perverse taste in mermaids, he doesn’t question my hobbies.”

Damen licked his lips. “Am I a hobby?”

“One of many,” Laurent said. Damen scoffed, and it only caused Laurent’s smile to grow. He leaned a head on Damen’s shoulder and looked down at the spyglass again. “Would it work underwater?” 

“I doubt it,” Damen said, and the turn in the conversation caused reality to sink back in. He felt it like his lungs filling with water.

“Laurent,” he said.

When Laurent looked at him, pursing his lips in question he said, “I have to go.”

“What do you mean?” Laurent asked. He looked at the inn. 

“Something has happened,” Damen said. “We thought we had more time, but I must leave.”

Laurent shook his head, once, barely noticeable. “I don’t understand.”

“There was a man in Ios,” Damen said. “Adrastus. I’d received intel, and had reason to believe that he has been trading in slaves. I’ve had men keeping an eye on him, but he disappeared last night, and an unidentifiable ship from the docks has gone missing.”

“I see,” Laurent said. He handed him the spyglass back.

Damen took it without looking, unwilling to tear his eyes away from Laurent’s. “I have to go after him.”

“Yes,” Laurent said. And then, “When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.”

Laurent was frowning. He was looking around them, towards the water, towards Damen’s ship that was close to where they were sitting. He didn’t say anything else.

“Laurent,” Damen said, unsure if he was properly understanding him. “I don’t know where he’s gone, or anything about his route. We don’t- I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

That was what gave Damen distress, the only thing that did. It was different when Damen had no lead to follow, no singular path to take. The sea was vast, and Laurent would have no notion as to where to begin to try and find him. When Damen had asked him how he knew where he was the last time, he’d given him a look that was full of mischief and said that he’d heard all the clues he’d needed to hear. Damen didn’t know what that meant, and he hadn’t asked. It wasn’t important, but this was. Laurent would have no idea where to begin, because Damen didn’t himself. If it weren’t for Laurent, he would have left Ios the instant his men had lost their sights of Adrastus. He waited for Laurent to speak. 

When he finally did it was not of much use, because all he said was, “Have you ever been to Kempt?”

Damen thought he might have heard wrong. “Kempt?”

“Yes.”

“The kingdom?”

“Yes.”

Damen’s next guess was the possibility of Laurent hitting his head on a large piece of coral on his way over that night. “Laurent, are you hearing what I’m saying?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Then why are you asking me about-“

“Tomorrow is-“ Laurent said, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “It’s too soon.”

Damen felt himself soften a fraction, reminding himself to breathe. It was all sudden, and they wouldn’t have time to properly part. It jarred Laurent, and he could understand that.

“There’s something that I-“ Laurent continued, before Damen could assure him that he understood, that he felt the same. “Well, that is, I thought I would have more time to…“

It was Damen who was frowning then. ‘More time to what?”

Laurent was looking at the water again. It was dark, and Damen could only see the profile of his face, but he thought he might see the lightest signs of a flush.

“I’ve been reading,” Laurent said. His tail flicked a splash of water upward. 

Laurent enjoyed stories and fables, that wasn’t new. “All right,” Damen said, slowly.

“Do you remember,” Laurent said, speaking just as slow. “When I told you about the rumors I’d heard about-“ he faced Damen again. “Stimulants?”

The word was a vague impression in Damen’s memory, so many conversations between them that they were hard to sort through. He clung to it, thought back, nodding when he did. 

“Yes,” he said. “I had asked you about-“ He trailed off. Looked up from his hands where his eyes had dropped to in thought, absorbing the way Laurent was gazing at him.

“I’ve been reading,” he repeated. “Anything I could find.” 

His cheeks were colored like pomegranates, and though it was all still so unclear, Damen could feel the beginning of his heart thumping against his chest, the effort of swallowing a conscious, deliberate thing.

“What are you…” Damen said.

Laurent’s tongue slid along his lower lip, the act of it like clearing your throat before speaking. “I’d planned on having more time to compile enough information,” he said. “More research.” 

Damen spoke over the tightness in his throat. He thought it might be nerves. “What were you looking for?” 

Laurent’s eyes were open, a little shy, and Damen felt another profound swell of gratefulness that he got to have this. “It would appear,” he started, his voice mirroring his expression. “That there might really be something; an herb that grows solely on Kemptian soil. I’m not sure how it is used, or where precisely it’s found, but I thought that you- that we-“

His speed increased with each word, like he was eager to get his explanation out and behind him. Damen tried to listen, finding it progressively difficult to hear him over his pounding pulse.

“From what I understand, its affect are only of a limited time, though the uses might be unlimited,” he continued, still scrambling. “But it allows you to change, to shift into-“

“Laurent,” Damen said. He could hear the way he sounded, and so could Laurent.

Laurent looked down to where Damen had taken his hand, a while passing before he met his gaze again. 

“I wanted to learn everything there was before I told you about it,” he said. His voice was low.

Damen nodded. _Yes._

“It might not be true,” Laurent said, ever the realist. 

“I know,” Damen said. He was smiling.

“And you’re leaving tomorrow,” Laurent said. 

“I’m coming back,” Damen said, and his heart felt like it grew in size when Laurent’s thumb brushed his. “I’ll always come back.”

He said it softly, honestly, making sure Laurent understood what he meant, what he felt. _I’ll always come back to you._

And he must have, because it was then that he smiled. Largely, unabashedly, the glow of the moon bathing him and reflecting in his eyes, so bright and strong that Damen felt light-headed with everything that might be.

“I’ve never seen Kempt,” Laurent said, into the silence. His voice was tinged in something new. “When you get back, would you care for a trip?”

Damen hadn’t know exactly what it was that he felt when he looked at Laurent, spoke with him, or even just thought of him. He had never felt anything like it, so he couldn’t be too sure how to describe the sensation. All he was sure about was that Laurent felt it too.

It wasn’t the simplest thing to identify an emotion that you have never before felt consumed by, that made you feel like a whole new world of possibilities may open up just because this other person existed. But when Laurent’s pinky finger wound through his, the two of them engulfed by water and a world that might never understand, he thought it might be love. 

“Yes,” Damen said. _Yes._

**Author's Note:**

> [ @laurent-ofvere](http://laurent-ofvere.tumblr.com)   
> 


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